The Truth about Mork
by Morkgirl
Summary: Mork reveals his painful past to Mindy and why he was chosen to study Earth.
1. Chapter 1

The Truth about Mork

Part One

"Mindy, where are you going?" Mork asked, noticing that Mindy was wearing her jacket, a wrapped gift in her hands.

"My friend Jennifer and her husband Bob just bought a house," Mindy said. "They're having a housewarming party tonight."

Mork frowned. "Well if the house needs warming, why don't they just turn on the heat?" He asked.

Mindy smiled. "Their house isn't cold, Mork. You see, a housewarming party is something people have to celebrate a new home."

"You mean, they didn't have a home before?"

"No, they had an apartment. Here on Earth, owning a home is considered a big deal. It's a transition into adulthood, a symbol that you're successful and financially independent. A home means security. It gives you a place to belong, to create memories. It's something you can count on as you grow older and have children. Haven't you ever felt that way about your home on Ork?"

Mork looked down at the floor. He couldn't explain it to Mindy, but suddenly he felt tremendous sadness. She noticed his pensive expression and interpreted it to mean that he was either still confused about the concept of home ownership or feeling left out of the evening's festivities.

"I want you to come with me," she said.

He looked up at her, his eyes brightening, a beaming grin on his face. "Really?" He asked.

"Of course. It wouldn't be the same without you. Besides, it will give you a chance to study more of our customs."

"I thought you didn't want me to go."

"Now why would you think that?"

"I don't know," Mork said, shrugging. He looked down at the floor again. "I just thought that…that I'd embarrass you."

"Embarrass me? No, of course not. You won't embarrass me."

"And I won't get in the way?"

"Get in the way? Whatever on earth would make you think such a thing?" She gently placed her hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me, Mork. You're my friend. I wouldn't think of not inviting you. I want you to meet my other friends, get to know them. It will be fun, I promise."

"Do you think they'll like me?"

"Of course they will. I don't see why not. They're my friends. If I like you, then they'll like you."

The tension in Mork's body eased. A relaxed smile spread on his lips. "All right, I guess I'll go," he said. He looked down at his clothes. "I'd better go put on some fancier duds if this is a party."

"You don't have to. It's casual. What you're wearing is just fine."

"You mean—come as you are?"

Mindy nodded.

"Oh, okay. I just hope they like who I bring."

"I already told you they would. What's wrong with you, Mork? You usually aren't this nervous or self-conscious. Why are you so worried that my friends won't accept you?"

"Oh, it's nothing I guess," he said, laughing. "Let's go."

He offered his arm to Mindy and escorted her like a gentleman out of the apartment, once again looking like the relaxed, confident alien that she remembered. She wondered why he had suddenly battled with such crippling self-doubt. He never seemed to care before about other's opinions of him. Usually, he seemed to move blithely through his interactions with others, never once pausing to concern himself over what people would think of his sometimes offbeat and eccentric behavior. She couldn't fathom why he was now so preoccupied with appearances, unless he was trying to impress her. Either that, or he had learned enough through his interactions with humans and gained enough experience to not be as oblivious to their reactions to him as he had previously been. She hoped not. She hoped he wouldn't become uncomfortable or censor himself around others in order to win their approval. His spontaneity was one of the reasons she loved him. She knew that her friends would also fall in love with him if he behaved like his normal, genuine self. He was endearing, his point of view refreshing. That was the Mork she hoped would show up with her to the party, not the insecure, almost frightened alien that had briefly replaced him.

The evening seemed to be going well. The house was gorgeous, a brand new log construction in the foothills of Boulder, overlooking the city. It was sophisticated yet rustic, far enough removed from the confines of the city to feel as if it were in the country, surrounded on all sides by mountains and pine forests. It was a peaceful setting, and Mindy couldn't help but feel a little envious of her friend's good fortune. She hoped that someday she could share a beautiful home in a tranquil setting with someone special of her own. As for Mork, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, being his usual gregarious, outrageous self, hamming it up for his audience. Mindy laughed uproariously at everything he said, and he seemed to take great delight in amusing her, increasing his antics just to keep her pleased and keep the mood of the party light and elevated.

What neither Mork nor Mindy seemed to notice was how his maniacal performance was being received by the rest of the guests, including new homeowners Jennifer and Bob. While Mindy reveled in Mork's inspired madness, the others appeared to be uncomfortable and speechless, shifting in their seats and watching him with perplexed, bemused, and empty stares. Some of them looked annoyed, wondering when the craziness would end. They also seemed worried, as if Mork would suddenly become so out of control that he would send the entire party collapsing into chaos and mayhem. While they had come for a good time, they found Mork's zaniness a little too overwhelming, even for a party atmosphere. They released a collective sigh of relief and exhaustion when he was finished, excusing himself to the kitchen to retrieve another glass of punch, something Mindy assured him he could drink without getting drunk since it didn't have carbonation.

"Well, that was certainly different," one of the guests said, smiling awkwardly and doing his best to be diplomatic.

"What did the rest of you guys think?" Mindy asked, smiling as if she were a proud parent showing off her talented son. "Isn't he something else?"

Jennifer and Bob exchanged concerned glances. "Mindy, you're not…dating this Mork, are you?" Jennifer asked, her wide, almond-shaped eyes growing wider.

"Well no, not yet," Mindy said. "Gosh, I hadn't even thought of that, really." She blushed, wondering if she secretly was becoming attracted to him. "I mean…we're just friends."

"Oh," Jennifer said, looking relieved. She set her wine glass on her brand new dining room table, which was half crowded with gifts. "That's good."

Mindy noticed her friend's peculiar reaction. "What is that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"Oh no, it's nothing, really."

"She didn't mean anything by it, did you sweetheart?" Bob asked, looking down at his wife, who was a full foot shorter than he was.

"No, nothing at all," Jennifer said in agreement. "It's just…"

"Just what?" Mindy asked.

"You have to admit that he's a little…odd," Jennifer said, lowering her voice to be discreet.

"Well, I suppose he is, but that's why I like him. He's unique," Mindy said, doing her best to defend Mork.

"He's weird," another guest said, her voice a little louder and less tactful than Jennifer's, influenced partly by the two glasses of wine she had just consumed. "I mean, come on Mindy, what on earth possessed you to befriend someone like that? I thought you had more sense than to take in a crazy person. Did he just get released from the asylum or something?"

"Hey, I don't appreciate him being talked about that way you know," Mindy said, growing angry. "He's just as much my friend as you are, and if I may be honest with you, you're not acting much like a friend saying such hurtful things."

"Yeah, cut her some slack Bridget," another guest said.

"Thank you, Dave," Mindy said, looking for some support.

"You know Mindy," Dave continued. "That's just how she is—always taking in strays."

Bridget sniffed. "Well, I for one would never take in someone as witless and foolish as that," she said, "and I certainly wouldn't bring him to a party where he hasn't the sense of how to behave like a normal person. He ought to be institutionalized where he can receive proper care, that's all. Now I'm sure you meant well taking him in to your home, Mindy, but he could be dangerous. You should really give him to a home where he can be looked after."

"Mork is not crazy and he is not stupid!" Mindy shouted, her furor growing. "I can't believe you guys!"

"We were just trying to be supportive," Bob said, shrugging. "That's what friends do."

"We're just worried about you Mindy, that's all," Jennifer said. She lowered her voice again. "It's quite obvious that man has a serious problem."

"I know Mork better than any of you do," Mindy said. "He's fun, intelligent, and kind. He's been a good friend to me, which is more than I can say of any of you tonight. I came here hoping you would be as accepting of him as I am, that you would appreciate him as much as I do. I thought you would. I thought after all my years of knowing you that I could expect some ounce of compassion and understanding. I guess I was wrong."

She snatched her coat from the nearby closet and headed for the door.

"Wait a second, Mindy! Where are you going?" Bob asked.

"Home. Call me when you resemble the friends I remember. You can keep the gift."

"Mindy, wait! We're sorry! Please, don't leave it like this," Jennifer said.

"Come on, Mork! It's time to go home!" Mindy shouted, ignoring Jennifer's pleas. She heard no response. "Mork?"

She looked in the kitchen. It was in an alcove down a narrow hallway, detached from the living room. Sliding glass doors lead out to a balcony. They were partially open, a cool breeze drifting through the room. Even though he had been separated from the main activity by a wall, she knew that Mork had heard every painful word they'd said. He was nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Judging from the open glass doors, she knew he had escaped to the balcony. She hoped he was still there so she could try to talk to him, try to make him understand, if she could.

"Well I hope you're happy," she said in disgust, returning to the group. "He heard what you said, and now he's outside, sulking. I'm going to go see if I can reverse the damage you caused." She turned and left the room, not waiting to hear their protests. Nothing they could say would placate her at that point.

When she found Mork, he was leaning forward against the railing on the balcony, staring into the night. It was a full moon, the glowing orb casting the landscape below in a monochromatic, silvery shade, pine trees and mountains silhouetted in the distance. The sky was so clear that Mindy swore she could see every star in the sky, the limitless and vast expanse of the universe spread beautifully above them in a richly woven, cosmic tapestry. It was late spring, so the evening was alive with sounds of creatures emerging from hibernation. Crickets sang in the valley, creating a pleasant, soothing sound.

"Mork, I need to talk to you," she said.

He didn't respond. For a moment she thought he might have been contacting Orson, his body motionless as if in a trance, his blue eyes gazing into the distance. Then she realized that he wasn't meditating but just lost deep in thought. She had never seen him so still, so contemplative. She almost regretted disturbing him.

"What those people said in there," she sighed. "That in no way represents how I feel about you. I care deeply about you. I hope you know that. I defended you in there against their hateful words. I just hope you stayed long enough to hear me. I hope you believe me."

He was so still that she didn't want to disrupt his relative peacefulness by intruding upon his space, but she couldn't help but want to touch him, to comfort him. She approached him carefully and gently rested her hand on top of his, showing him that she supported and loved him.

"I don't understand how you can be friends with people like that," he said, acknowledging her presence but not looking at her, his gaze remaining fixed on the horizon.

"That's not how I remember them," Mindy said. "They're old friends. I haven't seen them in a long time. I thought I knew them better than that. I guess I was wrong. Believe me, if I knew they were going to be so judgmental and critical of you, I would never have come."

Mork nodded, as if he believed her. "They rejected me, just as I knew they would," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry. You were right. I guess along with your other powers, you must have a sixth sense about these things."

He frowned. "Not really," he said. "This isn't the first time this has happened to me. I guess I've just grown accustomed to it, come to expect it."

"What do you mean? People on Ork rejected you, too?"

Mork nodded solemnly.

"I didn't know that. I thought you were important to your planet."

"Not really. They just didn't know what else to do with me. That's what they do with Orkans who don't fit in. They send us away, hoping another planet will be able to deal with us."

"You mean, you're an exile?"

"Oh no, I can return any time I want to," Mork said. "I'm just not sure that there's anything worth returning to. After what happened tonight, though, maybe I should. I guess I just don't really have a home anywhere."

"That's not true. You have a home with me," Mindy said, squeezing his hand.

Mork grinned bitterly. "You're the only one who accepts me, though," he said. "No one else would even give me a chance."

"That's not true. My dad likes you. My grandmother likes you."

Mork shook his head. "They tolerate me," he said. "There's a difference."

"Well, it's their loss," Mindy said. She looked up at the sky, wondering if she could see Ork from where they stood. "I just honestly don't understand how anyone could reject you, especially your home planet. Is it because you have emotions?"

"There's some of that," Mork said. "I suppose I should tell you the whole story…"


	2. Chapter 2

The Truth about Mork

Part Two

Planet Ork—several years earlier

No one cared when the Orkan man slipped on the commuter train platform and fell on the tracks. No one cared when the oncoming train struck him and killed him and then continued on to its destination as if nothing had happened. No one cared, or perhaps even noticed. But Mork did. Mork saw the entire horrifying sequence, playing in front of him in slow motion like a nightmare. He saw the mangled, bloody corpse lying crumpled on the tracks. He saw how quickly a life could be extinguished. And he saw, for the first time in his life, the cruel indifference of a people who didn't care, a race of people he belonged to. He felt ashamed to be an Orkan. He felt anger and disgust. He _felt_. Emotions were forbidden on Ork, but he could no longer restrain the full torrent of emotions that poured out of him, nor did he want to, as frightened and confused as they made him. Jumping onto the tracks, he cradled the battered, lifeless body of the man in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He knew the man was dead, but he still wanted to show him that someone valued his life, that someone was there to comfort him. As he held the man a crowd gathered, staring at him with baffled and disapproving expressions. Mork sensed their presence at looked up at them angrily through his blurry, tearful eyes.

"What's the matter with you?" He asked. "Don't any of you _care_?"

The crowd continued to stare at him with icy contempt, whispering among each other. Some of the onlookers, concerned that Mork's emotions would spread like a vile contagion, distanced themselves from him, moving farther back from the train platform. They observed him with the cool, detached air of rational scientists, his erratic behavior foreign and barbaric to them, as if they were anthropologists studying a primitive tribesman. Their callousness did not surprise Mork, but it still disappointed him. He was hoping to find at least one kindred soul among the crowd, someone who would share his grief and outrage. His sobs increased in intensity until he was gasping and choking, his body shaking violently as if it would be ripped apart, but it felt cathartic to him. After years of struggling to control himself, he was releasing all his suppressed emotion at once, allowing it to erupt and surge out of him like its own destructive, powerful force. He screamed and wailed, all for the memory of someone he never knew, but his melodramatic display was only further evidence of how emotionally stunted Orkans were, and how detrimental it had been for Mork to contain those emotions for years without allowing a healthy outlet to express them.

Sirens wailed in the distance, and Mork knew they were coming to arrest him. He felt several hands on him, gripping his arms tightly and pinning them behind his back as they yanked him off the tracks. He fought them off, using the physical prowess of his strong, athletic body to overpower them. He took off running, unsure of where he was going, his mind racing with tumult and confusion, his body adrenalized. In response, several other units arrived until an entire army of Orkan police officers surrounded him. He paced in his highly agitated state like a wild, caged animal, darting around them, trying to find a way to escape, but there were simply too many of them. It took eight officers to subdue him, and even then he almost broke free of their grasp, struggling violently, every muscle in his body tense and ready to spring into action.

"No!" He screamed as he wrestled on the ground with them men restraining him. "No!"

"Now, we insist that do not try to resist us," one of the officers said calmly, his tone flat and mild as if he were merely discussing a trivial daily concern like the weather instead of trying to apprehend an unruly suspect. He didn't even seem to sweat from his exertions, while Mork was sweating profusely. "Your efforts are futile. You will only make this worse for yourself. I strongly recommend that you cooperate immediately."

"No!" Mork shouted, his eyes wide with terror. "Please, I didn't do anything wrong! Let me go!"

The officer sighed. "I did not want to have to resort to something so unpleasant, but given the circumstances it looks like I will have to," he said.

He held his hand in front of Mork's eyes. Mork squinted, trying to avoid the flashing beam of light that emitted from the officer's hand, but it was too late. The power of the beam immobilized him, and soon he lost consciousness, his body slumping limply to the ground.

Prisons on Ork didn't have bars to hold their inmates. They didn't even have buildings. Given the nonviolent nature of most of its citizens, it seemed impractical to build massive warehouse facilities to store the undesirable elements of their society, not to mention how prohibitively expensive it was to maintain such a place. Instead, Orkans developed their own highly advanced methods for dealing with criminals. Their bodies were placed in suspended animation, their souls and sprits confined inside, unable to escape the paralyzed shell that contained them. As if that punishment wasn't cruel enough, their minds remained conscious, aware of everything that was going on around them, but they were unable to move or respond. They could hear and think, but they couldn't feel or see anything, their bodies numb, their eyes frozen shut. To outsiders, they merely looked like they were sleeping peacefully, but inside the tormented soul's mind, they were slowly unravelling. It was the ultimate solitary confinement. Many inmates went insane.

Mork's body was now among them, floating on an anti-gravity bed, a group of severe looking Orkan officials standing over him, examining him and running tests on his brain, trying to understand the origins of his emotional breakdown. One of them was grossly overweight, but his girth and impressive size gave him an almost baronial, stately appearance and only served to increase his authority. His name was Orson, and he was one of the senior Orkan leaders present for the examination. When a readout appeared on one of the computers, showing the results of the extensive tests they had performed, one of the other officials nodded, his theory confirmed.

"He's a Defective," the man, a sober gentleman with a neatly trimmed, snow white beard said. "An error occurred during his conception. He should not have survived. That he did is an anomaly."

"What is to be done with him?" Orson asked.

The bearded Orkan looked at Mork's body. "As you know Your Eminence, we cannot allow a Defective who is a slave to his emotions wander freely among our populace. We are a nonviolent, civilized people, and emotions are uncivilized and irrational. Our studies conclude that given the unpredictable and uncontrollable nature of emotions, they will almost always lead to violence. Those television signals we receive from the planet Earth only reinforce that conclusion. War, riots, rampant crime-we cannot afford to take that risk on our planet. It would destroy our civilization, and everything we have worked so hard to achieve."

Orson glanced at the computer screen to read the name of the unfortunate inmate. "So you think that this…Mork will one day commit a violent act if he is allowed his freedom?" He asked.

"Yes sir. I am afraid he must remain in prison where he will not be a threat to our way of life."

Orson looked at Mork. He knew the torture he was enduring inside that deceptively still body and peaceful expression, the frantic thoughts that were racing through his active mind as he struggled to move his uncooperative body but found himself incapable of doing so, imprisoned inside it for eternity. While he maintained his composure around the other Orkan superiors, inside he felt tremendous sympathy for Mork. He too knew what it was to have emotions, but he had long ago mastered the art of controlling them enough to deceive his colleagues and for the sake of his people. He knew it wasn't possible for every Orkan to do, especially when they were a Defective like Mork. Those held captive to their frozen bodies in the Orkan prisons were almost all Defectives, and their emotional instability was beyond their control. He wished there was a better system for treating them, but currently they didn't have any other options but to remove them from society. It was a shame, since from the profile he had read about Mork he knew he had an inquiring mind, an insatiable hunger for knowledge and new experiences. If only he wasn't so sensitive, he might have put his considerable gifts to good use for Ork. That was when a thought occurred to Orson. He turned to his colleagues.

"Do you remember our ambassador program?" He asked.

"Do you mean the program where we sent eligible Orkans into space to observe other planets?" The bearded man asked.

"Yes."

The man shrugged. "It was disbanded, several years ago," he said. "We didn't have enough qualified candidates."

Orson looked at Mork. "You do now," he said.

"Are you actually suggesting that we send a Defective out into the universe to represent our planet?" Another colleague asked.

"Mork may be a Defective, but he is also quite curious and intelligent. Gentleman, you cannot argue against that. You have all read his profile."

"Of course, but his emotions—

Orson held up his fleshy hand. "I agree that there could be some risk," he said, "but perhaps we send him to planets that will be agreeable to him and accepting of his emotions. Eventually he may grow accustomed to the culture on one of those planets and want to assimilate, and then we will no longer have to deal with his disruptive presence on our planet, which is clearly not a place for a Defective like him. What say you, gentleman? It could be a viable solution to our problem. Mork will find a home better suited to him, and we will no longer have to deal with him here on Ork. I say that it would benefit all concerned. We are a merciful people, after all. Why not grant him this opportunity?"

The rest of the superiors conferred amongst each other, uncertain. The Bearded One looked at Orson when they were finished.

"While we admit that it sets a dangerous precedent to release a Defective from stasis and allow him to travel freely among the universe to represent our people, you do present some valid and cogent arguments. We will allow an exception in his case; however, we respectfully request that you give us a few bleams to reinstate the program before we allow his release," he said.

Orson looked at Mork again. He knew the unendurable agony the poor man was already experiencing, trapped inside his body. He wished he could obtain the reprieve and free him sooner, but he knew it was prudent and wise to agree to their request. He bowed his massive head to them to signal his assent and show his respect. Now he only hoped Mork could maintain his sanity long enough to wait just a little longer.

"Excellent," the Bearded One said. "Now we will need to work on reinstating the program and come up with a few terms that Mork must abide by if he wishes to remain free and explore other planets as an ambassador from Ork."

"Terms? What are these terms you speak of?" Orson asked.

"You didn't expect us to simply release him without any guidelines to his behavior, did you?"

"I suppose not, but Mork is a Defective. His emotions are beyond his capacity to control fully. Frankly, I'm surprised he had the strength to maintain what little control he had over them all these bleams. I would have suspected that he would have been placed in stasis long ago, if it wasn't for his incredible intelligence. I humbly and respectfully request, then, that you allow for a little flexibility in the arrangement."

"There will be some, but not much," the Bearded One said. "He may not be able to control his emotions, but he is still responsible for his actions. He will need to conduct himself in an appropriate manner while off-planet, or the arrangement is null and void. Do we understand each other?"

Orson bowed his head again. "I accept your terms," he said, hoping Mork would as well. He realized the only way he could find out was to enter the poor man's imprisoned mind and speak to him from the tormented depths of his subconscious. "Now if you gentlemen will please excuse me, I need to discuss this with our prisoner."

"I do not understand the need," the Bearded One said. "He has heard every word we said."

"Of course, but I think he requires further clarification. After all, it will need to be his decision as much as ours."

The Bearded One looked at Mork with a dispassionate gaze. "If you insist," he said. "I still do not understand why it is necessary. After all, what reasonable Orkan would choose prison over freedom?"

"Mork is not a reasonable Orkan," Orson said. "Although he may be intelligent, as a Defective he is by nature rash and imprudent. The terms will need to be explained in greater detail to him, so that he is fully aware and understands the consequences of his decision."

"Very well," the Bearded One sighed. "Enter his mind, but you do so at your peril. Your foolish notion of him traveling through space might already prove to be a fantasy. It has been my experience that most of these prisoners lose their minds within the first few bleams of being incapacitated. Reach him if you dare, but if he attacks you do not claim that I didn't warn you."

"I understand."

The Bearded One bowed his head. "Then do as you wish," he said. "However, do not promise him complete freedom. If he accepts this assignment, he must understand it is on our terms, not his. He is our prisoner and is in no position to negotiate the terms of his freedom. He should be grateful for our leniency. If you reach his mind and find him otherwise, then he will remain in stasis. Is this clear?"

"Yes sir," Orson said. "I will convey to him our terms as you expressed them."

"Good. We will dismiss ourselves and leave you alone with him," the Bearded One said, tweaking his ears. "Nanu-nanu."

The rest of the superiors also tweaked their ears, and Orson returned the formal salute. "Nanu-nanu," he said.

Now, he had to connect his mind to Mork's, a task that he knew would not prove easy. He hoped he would not dread what he found waiting for him confined inside that sturdy, powerful body.


	3. Chapter 3

The Truth about Mork

Part Three

The recesses of Mork's mind where he had been condemned to spend the rest of his existence were cold and disorienting. He felt he was adrift in a vast, dark, and stormy sea, drowning and struggling to regain his bearings. The only thing that connected him to the outside world were the sounds of sober old men judging him without leaving him the means to defend himself, his body inactive, his mouth frozen shut. He tried to move and speak, but his efforts were in vain. He was trapped, shut inside a small space where no one on the outside could hear his desperate pleas for help. Exhausted, he eventually relented, trying to maintain the tenuous grip he had on his sanity, lost in the silence that he was left to once the voices of the men outside his body faded and abandoned him to his isolating nothingness. He tried to sleep, but the device that rendered him insensate did not permit rest—part of the punishment was to endure unending consciousness with no chance of escape into the comforting oblivion that would provide the escape he craved. He tried not to think, but his thoughts ran constantly. He tried to be strong, but he didn't know how much longer he could bear it. Since no one could hear him, he screamed several times, trying to release the pent up frustration he felt about being trapped. He didn't realize how much he had taken his physical body for granted. Now that he was deprived of its use, he wondered if he had made the right decision finally revealing his emotions to the public. If those men speaking about him outside his body were right, then it wasn't fully his choice. He didn't regret it, not in an instant. He had seen too much suffering to stand silently by without acting. Now, he was the one to suffer.

In the distance, a small, glowing light illuminated the blackness of his mind, drifting towards him and growing larger. He watched it, fearful yet curious, longing for any contact from the outside world, for any break in the monotony of his gloomy, limited existence. As the apparition approached more closely, it began to take shape. Soon, a massive, imposing form stood towering over him, looking like a cross between a corpulent opera singer and heavy bouncer, his thick arms crossed over his broad, billowy chest. He leered at Mork, satisfied that his presence had adequately intimidated him. Or so he thought.

"Whoa, you're so large you could have your own solar system," Mork said, smiling awkwardly and laughing slightly. He didn't know why he said it—perhaps to diffuse the tension. It was almost a reflex for him to say something snarky in reaction to the portly man.

Deflated but maintaining his powerful ruse, Orson appeared unamused. "That was humorous," he said. "I recognize that."

"Yeah—humor, ar-ar," Mork said, laughing nervously.

"It is also unacceptable."

Shamed, Mork looked away. "I know," he said sadly. He sighed deeply. "I am a Defective. Were you one of the Orkans talking about me out there?"

"Indeed I am. I would like to formally introduce myself. My name is Orson."

"Nanu," Mork said, offering his hand in the traditional Orkan greeting, his fingers splayed, his hand sideways.

Orson refused his handshake, looking at him with condescension. "You will not address me so informally," he said. "I am your superior. From now on, you will call me 'Sir.'"

"Yes Sir," Mork said, humbled. "Sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but how do you know that I'm a Defective? Because a bunch of fancy computers told you so? What if having emotions is normal, and healthy?"

"Nonsense," Orson said. "Emotions are a detriment to the survival of our race. They're the reason you were placed in stasis. Had we allowed you to run amok, you would have caused serious damage."

"But you said yourself that I can't control them. Isn't it cruel to lock me away inside my body?"

"It is the only method we have had to maintain order—until now."

"That's right, I heard you. I understand you have a mission for me."

"Indeed I do. I believe it will be the solution to everyone's problem. You will obtain some level of freedom, and our society can flourish peacefully without your presence causing further disruption."

"Do I get to choose what planet I visit? Oh, please say yes! I hope so, I hope so—

"Calm down!" Orson thundered.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Stop behaving like a child. No, you will not be able to choose your planet."

"Why not?"

"This isn't a vacation, Mork. This is a serious job that you are not to take lightly. You will observe the planet of our choosing and report back to me mentally what you have learned there."

"You mean, I will talk to you as we're talking right now? Inside my head?"

"Yes."

"What if I don't want to?"

Orson balked. He remembered what his colleague said about a reasonable Orkan choosing liberty over imprisonment, but then he also remembered that Mork was not a typical Orkan. He was pouting and defiant like an insolent child.

"You heard what we discussed," he said. "I am afraid you have few options available to you. Either you go off-world, or you will remain a prisoner inside your body."

"Can I ever come back and live here as I used to, without being a criminal?"

"Only if it is an emergency. If you are injured while out in the field, you may certainly return and our medical staff will tend to you, but once you are well, you must dutifully return to your job. This is a permanent position. You can never return, at least not as a free Orkan."

Mork hesitated. As much as the idea of intergalactic travel excited him, he had to admit that he was also scared. He didn't know what he would find on his travels, or how much danger he would face. He knew on some level that Orson respected his intelligence, but he also knew it was a clever new way to dispose of an Orkan citizen they no longer wanted living amongst them because they viewed him as aberrant in some way, his emotions and indeed his entire existence a mistake in their eyes. He felt rejected by his own people, and it wounded him deeply.

"But what if I do a good job? Could you make an exception in that case?" He asked.

Orson sighed. "Even if I could, you have been labeled a Defective. You would be discriminated against in the general Orkan population," he said. "You would find it difficult to find work, or even a place to live. It would be a lonely, isolating existence for you."

Mork knew that. Before he had been arrested, he already found other Orkans looking at him askance as he walked down the street. Now that it was confirmed that he was truly different from them, their treatment of him would grow worse. It would be painful and debilitating, but it was still preferable to being locked inside his immobile body.

"Still, I would miss being here," he said. "Sir, this is my home. I can't just leave it forever. This is all I know."

Orson heard the sadness in Mork's voice. It took all the strength he had to maintain his composure when he heard how plaintive he sounded, on the verge of tears.

"Perhaps when you have spent enough time away on an assignment, you may earn your liberty," he said, his voice softening slightly. "But that may be many bleams from now."

Mork ruminated for a while before speaking again. It was strange to him, holding an entire conversation inside his mind with a hallucination without having to open his mouth, which was clamped tightly shut. He began to wonder if he was finally losing his sanity.

"How do I know this is real? How do I know any of this is real?" he asked, mainly wondering aloud.

"I guarantee you this is very real," Orson said. "You heard us speaking. It is a legitimate offer, but you must either accept or deny it without further delay. If you do not choose to undertake the mission within the next few bleams, then I will have no other choice but to retract my offer, and you will remain here inside your mind."

"Whew, no pressure," Mork said.

"Well, what is it going to be?" Orson demanded.

"I have no choice where they send me?"

"None."

"And I can't come back unless I'm hurt, otherwise you'll place me back in stasis for crimes against Ork?"

"At this present time, yes."

"But there might be a chance in the future that I could live again as a free Orkan citizen if I perform well on my task?"

"A remote chance, yes."

Mork paused, deep in thought again. It really wasn't a fair choice, but at least traveling through space he could use his body again and not be deprived of his senses.

"All right, I accept," he said.

"Good. Now as you heard, it will take us some time to reinstate the program, so I am afraid you will have to remain here in your mind for a little while longer before we can get started."

"I understand," Mork said, his voice so quiet and sad that Orson couldn't bear it. He knew what a heavy burden poor Mork was carrying, and once again he secretly pitied him.

"Here," he said, handing Mork a toy wooden ping pong paddle with a ball attached to it by a string. "You can play with this while you wait."

"Gee thanks," Mork said, insulted. Just because he had emotions and was a Defective, his superiors seemed to feel the need to treat him like a child. Still, he was grateful. At least it would alleviate some of the boredom of being locked inside the darkness of his mind.

"When you see me next, you will be awakened from stasis. Remain strong, Mork. Nanu-nanu."

"Nanu-nanu, Sir," Mork said sadly.

Orson's apparition began to fade, and suddenly Mork couldn't fight the urge to cling to it, to keep it with him.

"No, wait! Oh please, please don't go! Don't leave me here! Please! I'll do anything, if only you'll stay with me until I wake up!" he cried, clutching desperately at the air.

It was no use. Mork was left alone in the dark again, uncertain how much longer he would remain that way. Even though his eyes were sealed closed and he was physically incapable of crying, he cried inside his mind, collapsing into terrified sobs. He knew his reprieve was coming, but he dreaded the endless hours and days he would spend waiting for it.


	4. Chapter 4

The Truth about Mork

Part Four

Fortunately for Mork, he belonged to a race of highly efficient people. They quickly reassembled their ambassador program, and within only 3 days they revived him from stasis to prepare him for his mission. Awakening from stasis was punishing on Mork's body. After a prolonged period of inactivity, he felt weak and uncoordinated, and he stumbled around clumsily as if he had forgotten how to walk, falling to the ground on trembling legs after several attempts to remain upright. He felt overstimulated, so many sensations from the physical world rushing at him at once and assailing his senses. He squinted against the bright light in the laboratory because it seemed unbearably bright. He could hear the rhythm of his lungs as he breathed and the loud banging of his hearts as they hammered, pulsing with life that had been in a state of suspension. Never before had he realized how loud life was until his had been stilled. The first thing he remembered when he realized he was locked inside his body was how unnaturally quiet it had been, but gradually he had grown accustomed to it. Now, he had to get used to the functioning of his internal organs again, as if they were foreign invaders inside his body.

Even eating proved to be a chore. The medical staff who revived him tried to feed him, but his stomach, unused to the presence of food after so much time, grumbled in protest and he vomited all over a pretty doctor who was helping him. She looked similar to Mindy, her dark hair swept back in a neat French twist. He flirted with her as she examined him, but since she did not have emotions, she seemed confused by his overtures and his lustful expression as he gazed at her longingly. Still, he thought he might at least have a chance if he was patient. When he violently lost the contents of his stomach on her, he knew his chance with her was lost. He blushed in embarrassment while she calmly removed herself from the room to clean her lab coat. While she was gone, he tried to say "Shazbot" in his chagrin, but as he opened his mouth no sound came out, the word refusing to form. Panicked, he worked his jaws and lips, struggling to talk. He tried forcing the word out, but there was no sound, his vocal chords stilled.

"Well Mork, how are you feeling?" Orson asked, entering the room, his stomach protruding.

Mork wanted to insert another jibe in his repertoire about how the obese man looked even bigger in real life, but he couldn't. He gestured frantically at his throat, hoping Orson would understand.

"You cannot speak?" He asked, his deep voice rumbling through his colossal frame like rolling thunder.

Mork nodded, his eyes wide with fear and concern.

"That is to be expected," Orson said. "After reviving from stasis, it takes the body's functions time to readjust. You will return to normal soon, and your strength should increase as well."

Relieved, Mork smiled.

"Would you like to hear about your assignment?"

Mork nodded eagerly.

Orson pulled out a thick dossier and flipped through the pages with his fat, stubby thumb. "The planet is called Urg," he said. "It is a primitive planet, but the people are very passionate. We decided that you would fit in well with their culture. You are to report back to me mentally as we discussed and you are to observe their customs. Do you understand?"

Mork nodded. He moved his lips silently again, struggling to make any sound that he could, no matter how small. At first, he only succeeded in making a strangled, guttural noise. As he continued to work his jaws and massage his throat, gradually he was able to manage a low, gravelly whisper.

"W-when?" he asked, surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded.

"As soon as you fully recover. It should not be more than two days."

"Will I like space travel?" Mork asked.

His voice was so faint and distant that Orson had to strain to hear him. It sounded like he was in another room. He looked into Mork's hopeful, innocent eyes and thought about their first meeting inside his mind.

"You will have to," he said gravely.

Fully recuperated, Mork walked the platform that led up to the tiny, one-man egg-shaped spacecraft he would use to travel to the planet Urg, careful not to show any fear to the group of Orkan superiors that had gathered to send him off, although inside he was a nervous wreck, sweating profusely beneath the collar of his red spacesuit. He did not know what to expect once he landed. He hoped they weren't sending him to his doom. He didn't think they would deceive him about the nature of his mission, but he also knew this was the same society that would have left him imprisoned inside an unresponsive body for the crime of expressing emotion openly in public had he not agreed to embark upon the journey, a journey that was fraught with the perils of facing the unknown.

"Nanu-nanu," he said, tweaking his ears and bowing to the superiors, hoping they hadn't heard his voice crack slightly.

He stepped inside the craft, and the doors sealed shut, the seams disappearing. There was no escape now. He felt the craft lift in the air, and soon it hurtled through the cold, vast expanse of space, speeding toward its destination. It did not require much skill for Mork to pilot it. Much of its operation was automatic, the coordinates entered into the ship's onboard computer system. He felt entombed inside the cramped, confining space, and he wondered how long it would be before he would land. In order to distract himself from his claustrophobia, he anticipated what he would find on Urg. Would the people like him? Orson told him they were passionate, but what did that mean? He was terrified yet also thrilled at the prospect of what he might find.

The craft entered Urg's atmosphere, landing with such forceful impact that it sent Mork tumbling forward. Briefly disoriented, he struggled to right himself, feeling nauseated and dizzy. He had landed at an awkward angle, the craft tipped upright. He hoped the doors weren't buried, searching for them with his hands. They had sensors that were supposed to automatically detect that the craft had safety stopped and that its occupant was ready to exit. Soon after Mork pressed his hands against the smooth surface of the egg he found the door, and it popped open with a hiss of air, revealing the first sliver of the planet outside. Cautiously, Mork poked his head out of the craft, searching his new surroundings. It was a desert planet, miles of empty, desolate sand dunes spreading before him, a howling wind sending particles in the air in swirling brown dust clouds. Sweltering heat from the planet's two suns bore down on him, and it became so intense and unbearable that he wanted to retreat back into the egg for some relief.

"Wonderful, they sent me to a hellhole," he grumbled in disappointment, wondering how he was going to survive in his new, hostile environment, wondering if they had sent him there to die, if that had been their intention all along, the glamorous promise of adventure and travel to exotic lands a cruel deception.

He heard something skitter around outside. Hoping that it was one of Urg's inhabitants, he emerged from the egg to introduce himself. He found a squat, hirsute being that resembled Cro-Magnon man, completely naked and eyeing him suspiciously. The peculiar, fuzzy little being grunted at him.

"Greetings," Mork said, smiling, trying to show this strange creature that he was friendly and harmless.

It was about all he was able to say before the hairy little ape released a cry, alerting his fellow cavemen. Mork looked in the distance and saw hordes of them standing on top of a dune, shouting in the foreign gibberish of their native tongue and waving spears in the air.

"Uh-oh," Mork said, not liking the look of their warlike posturing. "Was it something I said?"

Before he could retreat back inside the safety of his eggshell, an arrow whizzed by and pierced his left hand. He released an anguished cry and winced, cradling his broken hand against his chest as he quickly dropped back inside the protective shell, staring at the bloody wound in horror. The pain was excruciating, making it difficult for him to contact Orson mentally. Swarms of arrows soon darted overhead, and he could hear them clatter as they struck against his spacecraft. He knew his shelter from their assault would be short-lived, that soon they would overwhelm the craft, find a way to crawl inside, and kill him.

"Mork calling Orson, come in, Orson," Mork said, grimacing in pain. "Orson, I'm in trouble! Please, respond! Orson, you have to help me! Get me out of here!"

As if on command, the spacecraft's doors sealed shut, and soon Mork was airborne again, drifting into space and safely removed from the vicious people of Urg. Shivering, his body going into shock, Mork tried to remove the arrow from his hand, but the shaft had penetrated too deeply. He was bleeding profusely, the agony so intense that he longed for unconsciousness so he wouldn't have to feel anymore, so that his suffering would end. He soon had his wish, losing so much blood that he collapsed, slumping forward over the controls.

Lost in a haze, Mork awakened slowly, finding the pretty doctor standing over him, a glowing device in her hand.

"There," she said to someone that he couldn't see through his foggy vision. "His wound should be fully repaired now."

"How long will he be off assignment?" The booming, familiar voice of Orson said in the background.

"Not long. I would give him a few days to make sure the sutures hold."

Until then, Mork had forgotten what had happened to him, his mind groggy and unfocused. He felt disconnected, as if he was watching the scene of someone else's life unfold in front of him while he was a detached and casual observer. Looking down at his hand, he began to remember. Remarkably, the gaping wound along with the shattered bones had been fused back together, leaving behind no evidence of the injury, not even a scar. His hand looked the way it had before the arrow struck him, yet he could tell it had not fully healed. It was impossible for him to make a fist with it, let alone move it. It was useless, and it reminded him of how it felt to be trapped helpless inside his rigid body. He shuddered when he thought about it. Orson stood over him, his enormous shadow blocking out the overhead hospital light like an eclipse.

"How are you feeling, Mork?" He asked.

Mork smirked. "Some planet you sent me to," he said, glancing at his hand again. "They tried to kill me."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Mork asked, glaring at him. "Or is that you wanted all along? To let some hostile beings on another planet execute me so that you wouldn't have to?"

"You are not being rational."

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?"

"You sent out a distress call, and we brought you back," Orson said. "Had we any malicious intent, do you think we would have acted on your behalf?"

Mork looked away. "I guess not," he said. "Still, you could have warned me."

"The fault is ours. Our research on Urg proved to be inaccurate."

Mork snorted. "I'll say," he said.

"I extend my sincerest apologies. However, I still thought you would be able to identify with the people on that planet. They are, after all, a passionate race."

"Yeah, some passion all right," he said, examining his hand. He looked back at Orson. "Sir, they were violent and brutal. Why would I possibly want to live among a people like that? What would make you and the other superiors think I could fit in there?"

"Well, you know, with your emotions…"

"What do my emotions have to do with a race of people who haven't advanced enough to stop attacking the first thing they see unprovoked?" Mork stopped himself, suddenly realizing what Orson was trying to imply, and he felt deeply insulted. "Oh, I see. Now I think I understand. You don't think I'm as highly evolved as the rest of the Orkans, do you? Because I have emotions?"

Orson looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "I uh…wouldn't characterize it like that," he said, his gaze shifting away from Mork as he looked down humbly at the floor like a chastened schoolboy.

"Then how would you characterize it? Listen Sir, I don't mind going on this mission for you if you will only be honest with me. Do you agree that I deserve to live on a new planet with people who more closely resemble me? People I can relate to? People I can talk to? I may have emotions, and I may be a Defective, but when I was in stasis I heard you defending me. You said I was curious and intelligent, in spite of my limitations. Well, if I am to call a new planet my home, don't I at least deserve one that is relatively peaceful?"

"You do not_ deserve_ anything," Orson said sternly. "You seem to forget your position. You are not owed a thing. You are a criminal. Your relative freedom can be revoked any time we see fit if you do not fulfill your obligations."

Mork was stunned by his harsh words. He thought with Orson he had at least one ally among the superiors. He realized how incorrect that assumption had proven to be. To Orson, he was merely a troublesome burden that had to be dealt with and controlled.

"I see," he said quietly, turning his head to hide his tears. He bit his lip, trying to contain them. "Where are you sending me next?"

"The planet Lake," Orson said. "I am told that they are very—

"Let me guess—passionate?"

"Yes, passionate."

Mork sighed. "All right, I'll be ready to go," he said. "I just hope they roll out the welcome wagon before they kill me."


	5. Chapter 5

The Truth about Mork

Part Five

Everything about Mork's excursion to the planet Lake went more smoothly—at least at first. His egg descended at a gentle glide, as if it were a feather. When he looked outside, he didn't see a desert wasteland. The land was green and lush. A nearby village with country cottages dotted the landscape, surrounding a massive, clear lake on all sides that reflected the sky above. He realized it must have been how the planet got its namesake.

"Well, this is a step up," he said, looking around. "At least they know how to build. That must mean some sign of intelligence. Maybe this won't be so bad."

Smiling, he began walking toward the town, enjoying the feel of the cool, refreshing moist air on his skin. It was a relief after the parched climate of Urg, his skin still peeling and burning from that disastrous trip. He had regained use of his left hand, so at least he had all physical means at his disposal to defend himself if necessary. As he continued his stroll into the village, he didn't sense any danger and didn't think he had any reason to be on his guard. He had never seen a more picturesque, tranquil scene, and he found himself preferring the simple countryside over the impersonal, modern buildings on Ork. Maybe, he thought, just this once Orson and the other superiors had gotten it right. A mangy beast that resembled a cross between a dog and a bear chained to a post barked at him as he passed by on the cobblestone street at the entrance to the village, momentarily startling him. They didn't have beasts like that on Ork, so Mork was confused about the being, kneeling down to address it, hoping it wasn't a repeat of the violent, hairy monsters on Urg.

"Hello, I am Mork," he said. "Nanu-nanu."

The beast cocked its head, puzzled.

"Do you not speak any other language?"

The beast began panting, its tongue dangling. A pair of sharp teeth were visible beneath its lips, and Mork hesitated, wondering what its intentions were.

"Are you one of the citizens of this planet that I should talk to? If not, I know this is a cliché, but can you take me to your leader?"

The beast stared at him, panting, blinking its three eyes.

"Do you not understand me at all?"

The beast lunged at him, knocking him backward. Instead of attacking him though, he licked him affectionately. Mork squirmed beneath him, struggling to free himself. Eventually he managed to push the animal off of him, moving away in disgust and wiping the saliva off his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm not into you that way," he said. "Is that how you say hello on this planet? Because if it is, it needs some serious work."

The shaggy animal barked happily, rubbing against him. Mork watched him, frowning. An idea suddenly occurred to him.

"I think I understand," he said. "You are a pet. I…I never had one on Ork, but I think I know what you do. I saw this on an Earth TV show somewhere."

Carefully, he reached out his hand and began gently stroking the beast's fur. It was bristly and rough to the touch, but the animal appeared to enjoy the attention, purring like a cat. Mork began to enjoy the experience too, never realizing how soothing it was to pet an animal. It was such a simple, almost absurd act, but it had a profound effect on him. They didn't have that kind of closeness on Ork.

"There," he said, laughing. "That's good. You are a kind creature." He patted the beast on the head and it chirped brightly.

He looked down at the chain encircling its leg and suddenly felt great sympathy for the animal, knowing all too well what it was like to be held against one's will.

"My poor creature, who is holding you prisoner?" He asked. "That isn't right to keep you chained like this. Whatever you have done, you don't deserve such cruel treatment."

He pulled out his finger, aiming for the chain. Using his powers, he snapped the links in half. The beast yelped in surprise and then once it realized it was no longer connected to the chain it ran into the nearby woods. Mork watched him, satisfied that he could help.

"Run, my friend! Be free!" He shouted after it, grinning.

What he didn't realize was that a crowd had gathered. They had seen him use his powers, and they were afraid of him, having never seen anything like it before. Mork heard their gasps and whispers and he turned to face them. They looked like peasants from an older period in Earth's history that he had studied, so remarkably human-like that he wondered if Orson had sent him to the wrong planet.

"Greetings," he said warmly.

"Sorcerer!" A wizened old man shouted, pointing his crooked finger at Mork. "He has come to spread evil to this land!"

"Apprehend him at once! He must not be allowed to flee!" A rotund woman who looked like she could be Orson's cousin shouted.

Mork looked down at his finger, realizing what he had done. "No, you don't understand," Mork said. "I'm not—

The crowd ran towards him, their expressions filled with anger and hatred.

"Oh no, not again," Mork said, remembering the Urg people and their arrows.

He turned to run, heading back toward his spacecraft, but one of the most determined members of the angry mob caught up to him. He was a burly, gigantic man that could easily pick Mork up with one hand and crush him. Mork caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye before something struck him on the back of the head, the power of the blow sending him into unconsciousness.

Mork gradually awoke to find his limbs restricted, unable to move. Before he fully regained consciousness he panicked, wondering if Orson had decided to place him back in stasis after all, deciding that the off-world experiment was a failure. As he became more aware however, he realized his current immobility felt different, more discomforting. In stasis, his body had been numb, immune to all sensation. Now he felt something tight coiled around him, cutting off his circulation painfully. His head throbbed where the giant had stuck him, his vision momentarily blurred as he slowly opened his eyes, groaning. Something was wrapped tightly around his mouth, muffling the sounds he made, preventing him from speaking. He swallowed against it, his throat dry. Struggling against the restraints, his vision began to clear and he realized that he was wrapped in chains and rope, and they were cutting into his skin as he squirmed. The townspeople stared at him, and they were at a considerable distance from him. He wondered why they were so far away until he looked down, noticing that he was on a narrow platform, standing over the center of the lake, a tall, lanky man in robes standing behind him.

"This is the test," the robed man said, raising his thin, long hands in the air. "If this man be a sorcerer brought here to curse this land, his body shall float. If he is innocent, he will sink."

_What kind of test is that?_ Mork wanted to ask, but the gag silenced him. Once again he was found accused of a crime, and once again he was unable to speak on his behalf, these people not interested in the truth. Terror seized him and he fought harder against the bonds shackling him, trying to free his finger. If he could just wriggle it loose, he could easily zap through them, and then he could suspend time long enough to escape unharmed. It was no use. His arms were pinned at his side. He was tied so tightly that he barely made progress, thoroughly entwined. He barely had time to react to what happened next. The robed man pushed him into the lake. Weights attached to his bound feet sent him sinking rapidly to the bottom, darkness enclosing him. He held his breath as long as he could, still struggling in vain to free himself, the weights dragging him further and further into the abyss. Realizing his efforts were useless, Mork tried to calm his mind as best as he could manage, reaching into its depths to contact Orson. He closed his eyes as his body continued to sink into his watery tomb, the lack of oxygen making it difficult for him to concentrate. Still, he summoned all his reserves to remain focused, finding strength he never knew he possessed.

_Mork calling Orson, come in, Orson…._

Mork's wet body collapsed onto the floor of the Orkan hospital, released from its bonds, the gag removed from his mouth. He did not know how he got there, but he was relieved, coughing and gasping for air, his limbs trembling. He stretched onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he continued to recover, exhausted, taking deep and heaving breaths, never happier to see the sterile environment in his life. He wept and laughed giddily with joy and relief, covering his eyes with his arm. He could feel the presence of the Orkan superiors standing over him, but he didn't care, his body's reserves fully spent.

"This is useless," he heard one of them say. "Every time we send him to a planet, he winds up being assaulted."

"If people on another planet cannot accept him either, then what is to be done with him?" Another one asked.

"I recommend we place him back in stasis. It is quite obvious this experiment was foolish and ill-conceived," The Bearded One said.

Orson expected Mork to protest vehemently, but he didn't. He laid unnaturally still, his arm draped over his eyes. His breathing had slowed from the frantic choking and gasping for air he had when he first appeared. Now, it was so subtle that if Orson hadn't watched closely for the gentle, barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, he would have assumed he was dead. Mork looked like he was deep asleep, which wouldn't have been surprising given the grueling ordeal he had just endured. He decided that if Mork wasn't going to speak on his behalf, then he would. He opened his mouth when Mork stopped him.

"Go ahead," he said tiredly. "Do what you want with me. I don't care anymore."

Orson was secretly alarmed by how resigned Mork sounded, his voice a flat monotone, devoid of its usual passion. He saw how badly Mork had been beaten, his uniform in tatters, his skin lashed with bleeding welts from where the ropes and chains had cut into him. Defective or not, no Orkan deserved to suffer as he had. He couldn't help but feel guilty for the part he had played in putting Mork in that position.

"Perhaps we can perform more diligent research before sending you to your next planet," he offered, his tone conciliatory.

Mork removed his arm from his eyes and looked up at him, alarmed. "Oh Sir, please don't send me back out there," he said, his lip quivering. "I'll do anything."

The look on Mork's face was so devastating that Orson nearly lost his steely composure, his own long buried emotions threatening to surface.

"Gentlemen, will you please excuse us? I need to speak with the prisoner alone," he said, deepening his voice as if to assert his authority and conceal any signs of weakness that he momentarily felt.

The other superiors bowed their heads and tweaked their ears, departing the room. Once they were gone, Orson's expression hardened.

"I refuse to grant you asylum, Mork," he said. "You will do as you're commanded and continue exploring planets of our choosing. You made a choice. Now, you must commit to that choice."

Mork closed his eyes. "I didn't know it was going to be so _hard_," he said, sighing.

"I warned you before you made your decision that it would not be easy," Orson said. "I can, however, find more suitable planets for you to observe."

Mork reopened his eyes. "What?" He asked.

"I was thinking about what you said before. I misjudged you, Mork. I have a lot to learn about emotions, especially about how you experience them as a Defective. When choosing planets for you I was focusing mainly on the primitive aspects of emotion, their basest expression. When I observe you, I see something entirely different. You are not violent like the people on Urg or Lake, yet you feel as intensely as they do. This to me is a confounding paradox that I admit I do not fully understand."

Mork stared at him, unsure what to say.

"I am sending you back on assignment, but this time with a clearer understanding of what it is you need…emotionally."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"While you seem to possess some of the undesirable traits of our less evolved ancestors, you are nevertheless still intelligent. You need more from a planet than mere…passion. You need reason, as well. You need a people who can stimulate your mind, educate you. You need people you can relate to."

"That's what I've been trying to say, but you refuse to listen," Mork said.

"That's because the decision about where to send you is not yours to make," Orson said. "However, I do admit that we have not been doing you justice. You may be a criminal subject to our planet's law, but that does not mean we wish you harm. You have been unfairly treated and abused on your missions so far, so I will work to rectify that. When I reconvene with the other superiors, I will recommend that we send you to planets that are more advanced."

Mork got up slowly, wincing, his entire body sore, the welts left from the rope marks stinging and burning. He looked out the window of the hospital. Planet Ork spread out before him, its impressive towers glistening in the sun. He touched the glass, gazing longingly at his home, a home he was only allowed to visit on a temporary basis before being thrust back into the great unknown, subjected to the dangers of space travel.

"How can I be sure the next planet I go to will be advanced?" He asked. "How can I be sure they'll be peaceful and understanding?"

"Nothing is absolutely certain, Mork. I can however promise you that the next planet you visit will be much more civilized."


	6. Chapter 6

The Truth about Mork

Part Six

As Mork's egg-shaped spacecraft entered the atmosphere of the planet 12, it suddenly lost power, its controls rendered useless. Panicking, Mork skimmed through the ship's manual, trying to figure out the reason for the malfunction before he plummeted to the ground in a fiery crash.

"Why do they make these things so hard to read?" He asked, frowning, flipping through the pages. "There's got to be something in here that covers this situation. What do I do? Come on, come on…"

He continued to frantically search the manual for a solution, worried that every second he wasted was crucial to his survival. The pages tore as he leafed through them, the words printed on them looking like nonsense to him in his agitated state.

"Why doesn't anything make _sense_?" He cried, throwing the manual aside in frustration, the pages coming apart from their seams, fluttering around the inside of the craft and landing like large, irregularly shaped snowflakes. "I can't go back to Ork now. Orson wouldn't be pleased. I don't want to die, though. Oh, mayday, confusion, sense of impending doom…"

As he sat there pondering his fate, he began to realize that the craft was not hurtling towards the planet's surface. Instead, it drifted slowly and with ease, as if something on the outside had assumed control and was gently guiding it, keeping it straight on its course.

"A tractor beam," Mork said. "Orson was right—these people must be more advanced. How nice of them to welcome me." He leaned back and relaxed, propping his legs up on the dashboard, closing his eyes, and grinning. "I guess it's just a smooth cruise now."

As the craft continued to enter the planet, the walls began to dissolve as if it had entered a corrosive vat of acid. Soon, the controls and even the seat Mork sat on melted into nothingness until all that remained was Mork, too busy enjoying his free ride to notice, gently humming to himself, his eyes still closed. As his body floated, it became entangled in a mass of wires that wrapped around him and clung to him like the silken, sticky fibers of a spider's web, the ends of some of them latching on to the tips of his fingers and around his ankles, pulling him apart until his body was affixed in a spread-eagle position, his arms and legs splayed. Other wires gripped his head, and as they made contact with his body they glowed a luminescent, electric blue. Realizing he was trapped, he wriggled violently, opening his eyes. The wires encased his body like a cocoon, and he saw that he was dangling high above a darkened laboratory of some kind from the wires like a helpless marionette. Panels of electronic equipment on the floor below released a soft purple glow, the only light visible besides the wires wrapped around Mork that illuminated him like a Christmas tree. His struggles caused his body to swing and tilt at a sickening, unwieldy angle. Unable to right himself, terrified that he would fall, he decided to cease his struggle, his suspended body slowly swinging to a stop. He didn't have to fear falling—the wires thickened and coiled as they attached themselves to the rafters of the laboratory ceiling, securing him like a harness.

"Hello," he called miserably as he dangled. "Is anybody out there?"

He heard a slithering, sucking noise on the floor below him and noticed two giant, bizarre shapes silhouetted in the darkness. From what he could make of them, they appeared to be a cross between tarantulas and octopi, disgusting and terrifying creatures, their tentacles dragging behind them on the floor as they moved, their bulbous heads bobbing. At first he hesitated speaking again, afraid they were vicious. For all he knew, they were preparing to have him for their next meal. Then again, he knew he was on a planet with customs different than his. Orson told him they were advanced. Perhaps this was their way of greeting him, tethering him with the wires as some kind of safety mechanism, afraid he would tumble to the floor of their laboratory and injure himself. Their equipment and the wires attached to him seemed to serve some purpose, and he could tell they were technologically advanced, constructed by superior beings. He studied them carefully, trying to understand their function. He wasn't in pain, or even uncomfortable, which was surprising given how tightly he was bound by them and the awkward position in which they held him. Even his initial unease about hanging so far from the ground lifted, replaced with a serene calm that was unusual given the circumstances. He felt warm and tired, almost as if he was a child snuggled in bed under a warm blanket. He felt he could soon drift to sleep, his strength waning. His eyes began to close and he fought to keep them open, watching the creatures move around beneath him.

"Hello," he said, trying to speak as loudly as he could but finding it difficult, his voice sounding faint and distant from his exhaustion. His head drooped and he snapped it back up, once again fighting the urge to sleep. "Can you hear me down there? My name is Mork. Is this how you greet visitors to your planet?" He looked at the wires again, tugging at them. "Such a strange custom. Perhaps you could explain it to me?"

He noticed the weaker he felt, the brighter the laboratory became until it was fully lit, revealing the two creatures below in their complete, grotesque forms. Their heads were fuzzy but their tentacles were pale and slimy, secreting a clear film on the floor as they glided across its polished black surface. They appeared to be testing and checking their equipment, whispering some incomprehensible gibberish to each other that sounded like a mixture of hissing and sucking. They ignored Mork, focused entirely on their work.

"Hello…" Mork said, once again fighting to remain awake, the tempting pull of sleep luring him. The wires encircling him grew brighter as well, casting a vibrant blue glow on the floor below.

The creatures looked up at him, and for a moment he hoped they would at last acknowledge him, but they seemed to be more interested in the wires that ensnared him, pointing at them and making their sucking, whispering noises amongst each other in agreement, jotting down some notes on their notepads.

"Please, tell me what's happening to me…" Mork said.

He could feel his life energy being drained from him, his body feeling like an empty husk, almost as if he was bleeding to death. He couldn't understand it. The wires hadn't wounded him or punctured his skin. If anything, they acted like an insulating, protective encasement. Still, he grew weaker, the soothing warmth of the wires lulling him to a restful oblivion, reaching into his mind and deactivating all awareness except for his most basic functions. His eyelids grew heavy and drooped, the images of the creatures flickering before his field of vision as they fluttered. They were the last thing he saw before his eyes closed completely, surrendering to the tug of sleep that battled with the delicate threads of his consciousness, severing them. As he drifted away into the blackness, he felt his body tumbling into empty space, as if he had been freed from the wires as well. His body continued to fall endlessly, spinning and diving until it came to a sudden stop, impacting a solid surface with such force that he awakened, gasping, his eyes darting around frantically.

He was in the Orkan hospital again. The momentary surge of adrenalin he felt from falling was replaced once again with exhaustion, the room cast in a blurry fog as he once again fought with consciousness.

"Wow, déjà vu," he said groggily, his tongue feeling thick. He licked his lips and swallowed. "Where's that pretty doctor? She might make my repeat visits here worth it."

He heard the door to the room open as someone entered. He grinned lazily, hoping it was the doctor, wanting to try flirting with her again. When he saw the blubbery shape of Orson, he released a dejected sigh.

"Bummer," he said, closing his eyes.

"Do not fall asleep, Mork," Orson said. "I need to talk to you."

"Why?" Mork asked, groaning, rubbing his eyes with his hands and yawning. "So you can apologize again for sending me to another hostile planet?"

"Planet 12 was not hostile."

Mork laughed. "What? You've got to be kidding me," he said. "I thought you said they were advanced. Look what they did to me—whatever it was. I feel like a frail shell of myself, like I'm barely here."

"That's what I want to explain to you, Mork. Planet 12 was indeed advanced—unfortunately, they were only advanced technologically. They were not advanced with how they treated people from other planets, especially Orkans. It turns out they view us as inferior, disposable. Can you imagine? Us—inferior. They use our telekinetic powers as an energy source for their planet. They have been capturing innocent Orkans for years for this purpose. Unfortunately, our knowledge of this came too late. You were already sent on your assignment when we learned of this. You were very fortunate we were able to rescue you when we did. Had you remained on that planet much longer, they would have used your energy up until there was nothing left of you."

Mork thought about the wires entwined around his body, about how they glowed and brightened the weaker he became. They had plugged him in, as if he were an appliance.

"I think it's time you fire your researchers," he said.

"It was not their fault, Mork. You have to remember that Orkans have not been gathering intelligence on planets for several bleams since the ambassador program was disbanded. You are the first Orkan to travel through space for quite some time. Some of our reports are outdated."

"Gee, that's a comforting thought."

"I know, but so far our research has been accurate for the most part. It was our judgment that was more in error, I'm afraid."

"Orson?' Mork asked, a sly, teasing grin on his face. "Are you actually going to admit that you made a mistake?"

"Watch it, Mork," Orson said sternly. "But yes, you are correct. We were in the wrong. Actually, I was the one who miscalculated."

"What do you mean?"

"The planets I have sent you to were on opposite ends of the extreme. Urg and Lake were too primitive, and Planet 12 was too advanced. What you need is a balance between the two."

"It took you this long to figure that out?"

"Mork!"

"Sorry, Sir."

"I'm afraid you are right, though. I only wish we had known before sending you to those planets. We could have saved you some unnecessary pain."

"Tell me about it," Mork groaned, closing his eyes. He still felt weak, the irresistible urge to sleep returning to him.

"I know I told you that nothing is certain about your travels, but I can promise you that we will work harder from now on to find you planets that will provide rewarding and enriching experiences for you. Your mission is to learn, after all."

"Yeah, I can't exactly do that if I'm tied up all the time and my life is constantly threatened," Mork said, yawning.

"You can dispense with the sarcasm, Mork. You should be grateful that we have worked to come up with a solution. I do not need to remind you of the alternative."

Mork knew that Orson was implying that he could be placed back in stasis on a whim if the other superiors did not believe his mission was successful, but instead of frightening him, Mork almost wished for it, strangely longing for the peace it brought. Unable to sustain the energy it required for him to talk to Orson on a consistent level any longer, his awareness began to fade, his eyelids growing heavier.

"I know," he whispered faintly. "Thank you, Orson." His head settled back on the pillow, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

Although he was perturbed that Mork addressed him so informally, Orson supposed he could allow an exception just once, understanding how exhausted and weakened he was, the inhabitants of the planet 12 nearly killing him by draining him of his vital energies. It would take some time for him to recharge, some time before his powers were restored to their optimal functioning. Until then, his next mission was postponed. Orson knew that he and the other superiors would need to be patient, something that was decidedly easier for them than it would be for Mork if he were in their position. They could not afford to send Mork into another potentially dangerous situation without the full use of his faculties. As he watched him sleep peacefully, a sweet, almost boyish smile on his lips, Orson knew that for once Mork, as stubborn and willful as he could be, would not object. Looking around to make sure the other superiors were not watching, he covered Mork's sleeping body with a blanket, tucking him in with a sudden paternal instinct to protect and nurture him. He hated to admit it, but he was growing quite fond of him. He vowed to find better planets for him from now on, wishing he hadn't suffered. In response to the blanket, Mork stirred and moaned, curling onto his side. He looked so vulnerable, sucking on his pinky finger like a helpless, innocent child, his mouth slightly open as he snored lightly. Yet, he was also incredibly strong to have endured what he had on his travels so far. Orson once again found himself perplexed by his many contradictions. If he was a Defective, he was certainly the most complex and interesting one Orson had ever encountered. He would never admit it openly, but he had tremendous respect for Mork, for his resilience.

"Rest, Mork," he said quietly, fighting the strange urge he felt to smile. He gently rested his enormous, broad hand on Mork's head as if to comfort him in his sleep. "You've earned it."


	7. Chapter 7

The Truth about Mork

Part Seven

Fully recovered, Mork sat waiting in the Orkan hospital for Orson to hear about his next assignment. While he waited, the pretty doctor injected his neck with a hypodermic, the needle stinging as it pierced his tender skin, causing him to release a sharp, involuntary cry.

"Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but there's no need to be so rough," he said.

The pretty doctor ignored him, leaving the room.

"I just can't get anywhere with her, can I?" He muttered.

Orson entered soon after she had left, the double doors swinging widely open to accommodate his bulky frame. Even then, he had to squeeze through the opening, narrowly missing getting stuck.

"Well Mork, are you ready for your next assignment?" He asked.

Mork rubbed his neck, the injection site still stinging. He winced and looked out the door where the pretty doctor had exited.

"What was that for?" He asked. "What did I ever do to her?"

"What are you talking about?"

Mork gestured toward the door. "She stuck me with a needle."

"Oh, that." Orson looked out the door, as if distracted. "Listen Mork, I have some good news for you."

"Really? For once?"

"Don't get cute." He looked at Mork, his serious expression not indicative of any good news, but he was just being a typical Orkan, his emotions flat and nonexistent. "You have been granted a pardon, of sorts."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember how I told you we were going to work on sending you to more planets that were balanced between the primitive and the advanced? Well, we have decided to send you to the planets in Earth's solar system, including, eventually, Earth itself."

"Earth? You mean it?" Mork asked, beaming. "Oh Orson, I've always dreamt about going there. I love their television signals."

"I know you do, for some odd reason that escapes me. We decided that you would probably fit in there the best, since Orkans look like humans and your Defective emotions work well with their own irrational behavior. They are primitive, but not so much that you would feel out of place. I think you would adapt well to their bizarre culture, since you are so bizarre yourself."

"Gee, thanks. What a nice thing to say."

"You will visit the other planets first. If you perform well on your duties there, you will be sent to Earth. Consider it a reward for your hard work."

"Sir, I'm excited of course, and I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but what does this have to do with my being stuck with a needle? I heard you mention something about a pardon?"

"Don't be so inpatient, Mork. I was getting there. If you do well on your next few assignments, you will not only be rewarded with a visit to Earth—you will also be able to come back to Ork on a limited basis without being imprisoned for your emotional crimes."

"What do you mean, limited basis?"

"The doctor injected you with an implant. It is not activated yet. It will activate once you successfully complete your missions on the planets in Earth's solar system. That will be when you can return to Ork to visit if you'd like, but there are certain conditions attached, certain terms you must abide by if you wish to remain free."

"And this implant has something to do with that?"

"Yes. Once activated, it will monitor your emotions while on Ork. If you become even slightly emotionally aroused during your visits here, the implant will alert us and you will be placed back in stasis, and your off-planet privileges will be revoked."

"Why, Sir? Why would you do this to me?" Mork asked, horrified, hating the idea of having a foreign object inside his body. "What kind of pardon is that? I'd rather never come back than have to undergo that kind of scrutiny. How could I possibly control my emotions to that extent? You know I can't. It seems to me like you're setting me up for failure, making it so I can't come back if I want to."

Orson's expression remained stony, unmoved by Mork's passionate pleas. "That is how it is to be," he said. "We cannot allow you to roam freely among Ork's citizens if you are in a volatile, highly emotionally charged state. It is too dangerous. That is the law, I'm afraid. You either follow our law or suffer the consequences."

"Then I can never truly be free on Ork, no matter what I do or how hard I try," Mork said sadly.

"I am afraid not. That is why we think it is essential that you do your best to fit in on Earth. It may be the best new home for you."

"You want to get rid of me. You view me as disposable at the people on Planet 12 did. You think I'm inferior to you, don't you?" He asked, his eyes brimming with tears.

"This is not about what I think, Mork," Orson said, immune to his emotional display. "I have a responsibility to the Orkan people. We all do. We cannot afford to allow an emotionally wayward individual like yourself to disrupt our way of life. We function as a collective, you know that. There is little room for individuality in our society. If we are ever to evolve and advance, we must purge ourselves of those emotions that plague Defective Orkans like you."

"Maybe our society needs a little disruption."

"I'm afraid that will never happen. Your best hope for freedom and for a new life lies on Earth. It will not be so bad. I think you will find that you like it so much, you will never want to leave."

Mork sighed. "I hope you're right," he said.

Boulder, Colorado—the present

After relating his tragic story to Mindy, Mork was thoroughly exhausted. She could tell the intensity of the emotions he felt as he recalled his tormented past to her had worn him down, so she drove him home, refusing to speak to Jennifer or the rest of the party, still angry with how disrespectful they had been. She fixed the sofa for him to sleep on, his body too heavy and limp to drag him up the stairs to his room in the attic. He leaned on her as they entered her apartment, his weight pulling her down as she struggled to get him to the sofa, panting with her exertions. So willing was he to surrender to sleep that he helped her get him into bed, moaning as he settled on the sofa, instantly falling into a deep sleep. His rest was short-lived, however. In the middle of the night, she was awakened by his frightened cries into the darkness. Rushing into the living room to see what was the matter, she turned on the light and found him lost in the terrifying grips of a nightmare, writhing in torment, his limbs flailing, grimacing as if in pain. She wondered what horrific images he was seeing, what traumatic memory he was re-experiencing. She wondered what he hadn't told her about his past and what other abuses he might have suffered that were now haunting him in his sleep, refusing to leave him alone. She tried to awaken him, but she didn't know how, not wanting to startle him by abruptly shaking him. Instead, she approached him gently, resting her hand on his trembling shoulder.

"Mork," she said softly in a pleasant tone, hoping to reach him, hoping somewhere within the depths of his mind he could hear her comforting voice and know that he was not alone, that he was safe. "Mork, it's me, Mindy. It's all right. I'm here now. You're having a nightmare. It's time to wake up."

Mork's eyes opened. The moment he saw Mindy, he reached out to her, embracing her tightly, collapsing into relieved sobs, burying his face into her shoulder.

"It's okay now," she said, rubbing his back and stroking his hair. "I'm here. It's okay. Shh…"

She held him for a long time as he calmed down, his cries muffled against her shoulder as he gripped her tightly, almost hurting her with the strength of his grasp. He clung to her desperately as if she was the only thing holding him upright, as if he would collapse without her reinforcing support. She held him for as long as he wanted her to, not caring how long it took for him to settle down or how his tightly clasped fingers were probably forming bruises on her arms. She held him, silently, cooing at him softly on occasion to soothe him, rocking him gently as if he were a baby in distress. She was patient, knowing that he needed the nurturance and love he had never received on Ork. His breathing relaxed and he gradually released his grip on her, looking at her, his eyes moist with tears.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he said.

"Why are you sorry? There is nothing to be sorry about. You were having a nightmare," Mindy said.

"Was I?" Mork asked, looking around the apartment, bewildered. He wiped his eyes. "I didn't know where I was."

"You're here, safe with me," Mindy said.

Mork smiled slightly. "Thanks for being there for me, Mind," he said.

"Of course. Any time."

He embraced her again. When they separated, Mindy was quiet for a while, reflecting on everything he had told her.

"You know Mork, I never realized how much you've suffered, how difficult it's been for you," she said. "I think I understand now how isolated you've felt, and why you were so concerned about being accepted. It's because you never have been before, not even by your own people. You've always been treated like an outcast, and for the first time tonight I understood how lonely you must feel, and how painfully separated and different you feel from everyone else. I guess I never understood that before because all I ever knew growing up was love and acceptance. I just assumed you had received some of the same love in your life. I found myself feeling incredibly guilty. My life has been so sheltered compared to yours."

"Be glad for that, not guilty," Mork said. "At least you have a true home to belong to, to call your own. Earth is my adopted home, sure, but I can never truly claim it as mine. I may look like a human, but I will never be one. I may be an Orkan, but my emotions keep me from being like the rest of my race. I belong to no group, have no true identity. It's hard being so different from everyone else. I have no one I can truly relate to, no peers. I guess I am what you might call a lost soul."

Mindy took his hands. "Now Mork, I won't claim that you're wrong about that," she said. "I will tell you, though, that I can be your navigator. You can count on me to support you, to care for you. I hope you know that."

Mork nodded. "I know that," he said quietly. "That's why I was so glad to find you, to have you in my life. I knew Orson made the right decision about sending me to Earth when I met you. You were the first person I met off-planet that accepted me fully and didn't treat me like I was different. I guess tonight I was hoping your friends would be the same way. When they weren't, I felt like an outsider all over again. I began to have doubts about staying here. I almost begged Orson for a transfer to another planet. Even returning to Ork with the knowledge that I would be carefully monitored for my emotions and possibly face imprisonment again was preferable to the pain of rejection I felt."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that. I told you they were old friends. From high school, actually. I was a different person then, less mature. I was one of the popular girls, and I can remember that we used to make fun of people at school who were different, the outcasts, the social misfits. Thankfully, I managed to outgrow that phase. Some people never do."

"Why did you do that, when you knew it would be so hurtful to those people you were teasing?" Mork asked.

"That's the thing, Mork. We didn't know. We didn't know what impact our words had on others, on their ability to cause harm. We just thought we were having harmless fun at their expense."

Mork frowned. "I'm confused," he said. "How is hurting someone else considered fun on your planet?"

"It comes from fear and insecurity," Mindy explained. "You see, the teenage years here on Earth are a very painful and confusing time. You're growing and changing, and everything seems to be moving much faster and beyond your control at times. You're not sure who you are, who you want to be. Fitting in with a clique and making fun of others is almost a survival mechanism. It makes you feel better about yourself."

"That's almost like the Orkan superiors treating me differently because of my emotions," Mork said, feeling in his neck where the implant was, still threatening to activate and alert his superiors of inappropriate emotions any time he visited Ork. "It gives them some feeling of control over something they don't understand."

"Exactly. It doesn't necessarily make them bad people, it's just that they don't have that capacity to feel empathy for your situation. Teenagers on Earth are similar. Many of them that do bully other kids haven't developed their sense of compassion and tolerance for others yet."

Mork grinned. "Orson would not be thrilled to hear you comparing him and the rest of the Orkan superiors to Earth children," he said. "It's true, though. I can certainly see the similarities. I'm glad you're different, Mind. I'm glad you outgrew it."

Mindy smiled. "I am, too," she said. "It narrows your world, what you experience, who you meet. If I had never changed, I might not have accepted you, either. I might have joined them in making fun of you. Worse than that, I might never have invited you or never even met you in the first place."

"Whew, that's an awful thought," Mork said. "Imagine—no Mindy. I don't know what I'd do, how I'd cope with my new situation. You've made living here bearable. I just want you to know that…I appreciate you very much."

Mindy smiled sweetly. She could tell by the sincerity in his eyes that he meant it.

"I appreciate you, too," she said. "From now on, I'm going to work harder to make you feel more welcome here, too. This may be your surrogate home, but I will do my best to make you feel like you belong. I don't care what those stuffy Orkans think, either. I'm glad that you have emotions. They're a part of you. They make you who you are. You wouldn't be the same without them. I just want you to know that you're free to express them to me any time you wish. I won't judge you like they would."

Mork's expression brightened. "Really? You mean that?" He asked.

"Of course I do."

Mork suddenly grew excited. He thought about the pretty doctor on Ork, the one who never reciprocated his affections. She looked like Mindy, but she had none of her warmth. Now that he was facing her duplicate, an idea occurred to him. He wondered how she would react, but a part of him decided that he didn't care any longer. He was tired of restraining how he truly felt about her. He was tired of restraining any feeling he had at all. He decided that since he was on Earth, the chip inserted in his neck could not punish him. For once, he was truly free. Leaning forward, he kissed her. She seemed surprised at first, almost flinching and pulling away from him, but then she relaxed, returning the kiss. They remained that way for several minutes, locked in a blissful embrace. When they released each other, Mork hugged her, releasing a deep sigh.

"Home," he said, smiling and closing his eyes. "I'm at home, at last."

The End


End file.
